Manties for Panties
by Kryss LaBryn
Summary: A short silly fic playing off Spicy Sith's 'Red'. If you can accept V absconding with Evey's panties, the rest is in character, although Chapter Two is extremely silly. You have been warned! Please, if you read, review!
1. Chapter 1

**Manties for Panties**

_By the ever-increasingly apologetic Kryss LaBryn. Blame Spicy Sith's "Red" for this one (see end for url)._

* * *

It was all V's fault, thought Evey, as she struggled to breathe. He started it!

She had noticed that various lacy panties were disappearing out of her laundry hamper, only to reappear a few days later in her underwear drawer, freshly laundered and folded. And while yes, she did "booby-trap" her red pair for him (while having deliciously naughty fantasies of what he might be doing with them), _he_ was the one who decided to keep them!

He definitely started it!

And then, after a week or so, when the red panties hadn't reappeared like the rest had, well, what choice did she have?

She still had no idea when or where V did his laundry. But she had a pretty good idea where he'd _keep_ it…

And so she waited until he had gone off again, out on some mission or other (she really didn't want to know), and, feeling both guilty and giggly, crept off down the hall to his room.

She knew which one was his, of course, but she'd never been in. Not that he'd expressly forbidden it, or anything, it just …wasn't done. She was so nervous listening for the sound of his return that she didn't even glance around, just made straight for the dresser against one wall. Oddly enough, the top drawer was full of paperbacks (_uh oh_, thought Evey, _what if he goes commando?)_, but the second one yielded fruit. _Of the Looms,_ she giggled to herself, snatched a pair, and ran giggling all the way to the safety of her room.

Collapsing on her bed, weak with laughter, she waved them in triumph over her head. "Gotcha!" she yelled giddily.

Sobering a trifle, she finally stopped to examine her prize. She wasn't quite sure what she had expected; something in black silk, perhaps? But the navy blue boxer briefs seemed somehow appropriate. Sexy, yet supportive. She snickered, imagining the effects a roundhouse kick might have in boxers. _They'd be flapping all over!_ she thought, and collapsed again in helpless laughter.

When she was finally able to drag herself upright again, she carefully rolled them up and hid them inside a pair of her socks. She was nonchalantly reading when he returned.

He never gave any sign that he'd noticed anything amiss, but a few days later, when she went into her drawer, her yellow panties were missing. Her _clean_ yellow panties. And sure enough, a week later they were still gone. "What does he do, count them?" she asked herself. "There were, like, a dozen in there! How did he know any were missing!"

There was nothing for it. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, and manties for panties. The next time he was out she swiped another pair.

Again he said nothing.

But the next morning, when she got out of the shower, her blue pair was missing.

"Right," said Evey. This time she didn't even wait until he left; as soon as he was busy practicing his fencing again, she casually wandered out as if to the loo, grabbed the black marker from the laundry room, ducked into his room, and wrote, very carefully and neatly, in large black letters, "Property of Eve Hammond" across the waistband of every single pair.

_That'll learn him,_ she thought with immense satisfaction, carefully closing his door behind her again, while the sounds of his practice echoed in the distance. She headed back to her book, flushing the toilet on the way by to maintain verisimilitude, and sat down, struggling to suppress her grin.

V said nothing.

She honestly thought that would be the end of it.

She really did.

But…

…this morning, when she had staggered out of bed, running a hand through her rumpled hair and yawning hugely, and opened her drawer…

There was nothing. Nothing.

"Bloody hell!" she growled, slamming the drawer back in, "_All_ of them! That bastard!"

What was she to do?

Hmmm… a wicked grin spread across her face. Well, she did have a couple of other pairs of underwear stashed away… They'd be like shorts on her, but under the circumstances… She opened her sock drawer, unrolled his shorts from her socks, and giggled, torn between aggravation and amusement.

'Property of Eve Hammond' stared back at her. "How in the _hell_ did he know where they were?"

Well, the hell with him then! They were soft; she was sure they'd be very comfortable, but if _that_ was how he was going to be…

A small while later, she strolled into the kitchen, casually dressed in a T-shirt and sweats. "'Morning, V," she said, slipping into her place at the table.

"Good morning, Evey," V turned from the stove, wearing another of his ridiculous flowered aprons, and handed her a mug of tea. "Sleep well?"

"Yes, thank you, V, and you?"

"Oh, very well, thank you, Evey," he replied, turning back to the stove, and humming under his breath.

"I don't think I know that tune," Evey said, momentarily distracted by her curiosity. "What is it?"

"It's from an old musical, 'West Side Story'," said V, setting a plate of eggies in a basket before her. "It was an updated retelling of 'Romeo and Juliet'." He sang a few bars, "Modest and pure, polite and refined, well-bred and mature and out of her mind!"

"Hmmm…" Evey took a mouthful. "Appropriate, somehow…"

"I thought so."

_He's dying to know, I'm sure of it,_ she thought. _Should I keep him in suspense, or let him off the hook?_

She slowly ate a few more bites, considering, then reached for her tea. "They didn't fit," she said casually; "I had to go without." She glanced up at him, regarding her, motionless. _Ha! that got him_, she thought in triumph, and toasted him with her tea.

He leaned against the stove, hands crossed in front of him. "So, Evey," the mask tilted, and he _deliberately, damnit!_ waited until she was about to swallow, "Marking your territory, are you?"

Evey almost drowned.

_finis_

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Find Spicy Sith's "Red" at http/community. Find the rest here, especially if you don't recognise the song: http/ 


	2. Chapter 2: Epilogue

**Manties for Panties: Epilogue.**

_By Kryss LaBryn, who no longer sees any point in apologizing; it's just the way my mind works. I own nothing._

* * *

…_Four months later…_

Evey faced V across the kitchen table. All right, his shirts were much too big, and the only thing holding up his manties were the too-big pants she had to belt much too tightly to keep on, and the only way she could wear his boots was to stuff (his) balled-up socks into the toes first, but all in all, she figured she was much better off than he was. That was good. She liked to negotiate from a position of strength…

V faced Evey across the kitchen table. His clothes hung on her like a well-dressed scarecrow, giving her the most adorable "little girl playing dress-up" shuffle as she clutched the waistband as she had moved about the Shadow Gallery, occasionally glaring at him sideways when she thought he wasn't looking. He had found it most entertaining to play along; giving her back some of her lost childhood, as he thought of it. Although, he mused, things were progressing a tad… far. It was just as well he had several spare outfits tucked away in other, more private areas of the Shadow Gallery. His current attire would seem a tad outré for Above.

Not that he really minded it, he supposed (although the wide-eyed kittens on the pink sweatshirt quite deeply offended his sensibilities); as only her most casual sweats fit him, albeit slightly more snugly than fashion (or modesty) would dictate, he wasn't _too_ uncomfortable. At least, _most_ of him wasn't... The thing that he had been most surprised by was exactly how _uncomfortable_ sexy underwear was. He privately resolved to get her some very comfortable cotton briefs on his next 'shopping trip'. Something in a pretty colour, but _comfortable_. Even allowing for the chafing and constriction (not in itself surprising, considering they were cut for someone much smaller and without significant external genitalia), he was appalled at how much they _itched_. And they _insisted_ upon riding up. As tempting and delightful as he had imagined them looking on Evey (and as good as his _own_ bum looked in them), it was akin to a mild form of Chinese water torture to wear them. He was constantly fighting the urge to reach down his pants and have a really good scratch. Or simply rip them right off.

_Thank_­ God ­_I don't have to wear the bras, too!_ he thought.

Still, all in all, he decided it was time to end this, however much amusement it may have provided them both. He had business Above, and while he had been able to sneak away occasionally for very short trips, sooner or later she would notice him gone, or, worse, catch him returning in his regular dress. She would be hurt. She would know that he had only been toying with her, and she would be hurt.

_She would realize that I don't_ need _to wear them…_

Evey straightened and looked expectant as V sighed deeply. "Truce?" he said.

* * *

_**A/N:** There you have it! The resolution to my version of the Great Manties War of 2006. Thanks for your… er… _support_. Hee! _


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